Planet of the Chipmunks
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: Aiming to prove that not ALL his adventures are frightening life or death escapades, the Doctor takes a skeptical Donna to a planet with a rather ‘special’ sort of atmosphere…
1. The Bet

Disclaimer: I do not own _Doctor Who_, more's the pity. (sniff ) Please don't sue me or steal my silly little story.

NOTE: Although this story does not actually contain talking chipmunks, the inspiration that spawned it owes a nod to the new _Alvin and the Chipmunks_ movie. I really loved the Chipmunks' TV show and the _Chipmunk Adventure_ movie when I was little (Simon's my favorite), so I was terribly nervous going with my sister to see this new live-action film. But despite our apprehension, we ended up having loads of fun! I don't care what the critics say, I always thought Dave's character was boring and flat so there's really no change there. What mattered to me was that, despite the story's simplicity and a slightly irritating case of pop-flavored oversinging near the end, the Chipmunks' sweet, mischievous personalities were spot-on! I came out of that movie laughing and so happy I needed to write a story, and here it is. It's silly and short and has two parts. Hope you like it!  
P.S. Apart from this, I've also got a short Christmassy story currently in the works, and I'm about a quarter of the way through my next update for _Nowhere Men_. Both of these should be up within the next few weeks. Until then, here's a happy holidays message from the Beatles' 1963 Christmas Record to keep the spirits bright:

GARRY CRIMBLE TO YOU,  
GARRY MIMBLE TO YOU,  
GETTY BABLE, DEAR CHRISTMAS,  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ME TOO.

Merry Happy Holidays Everyone!

* * *

**Planet of the Chipmunks  
By Rowena Zahnrei**

Part One: The Bet

Donna Noble slammed the TARDIS doors shut and sagged against them, fighting to catch her breath. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was a mess, her once elegant dress was hanging from her shoulders in baggy shreds, and her shoes were coated so thickly with mud that it was impossible to tell their original color. The Doctor, by contrast, looked as dapper as ever as he pranced around his ship's center console, making pasta or whatever it was he did up there with all those levers and knobs. The fact that the ancient Time Lord's wildly tousled hair and flushed face only improved his deceptively boyish good looks, while Donna looked like something a cat wouldn't deign to touch, let alone drag in, sent a wave of irritation flooding through his ragged companion. Her eyes flared, and she stamped her foot, sending flecks of greenish mud spattering all over the floor grating.

"Right, Martian Boy," she snapped, the sharpness of her voice causing the Doctor to stop in his tracks. "That's the last time I listen to you. I've had it!"

"Sorry…what was that?" the Doctor asked, needing a moment to shift his concentration from plotting coordinates to confronting an irate Donna.

"Are you deaf as well as blind, then?" she glared, gesturing to her ruined outfit. "Or did you fail to notice we were just chased nearly three miles across a stinking swamp by a herd of giant alien whelk…snail…_things!_"

"Caenogastropodians," the Doctor informed her, the 24-point word rolling off his tongue like a glass marble. "Surprisingly quick ones, too. I'm impressed. On most planets, gastropods have a reputation for being slow, cumbersome creatures, but these–"

"Oh, shut it you," Donna snapped, jabbing the air with a muddy, accusing finger. "I don't care about your bloody biology lesson! You promised me a spa. A five-star resort with first class service, luxury mud-wraps, beds made from scented clouds, restaurants famed throughout the galaxy, chocolates that actually make you _slimmer_! An' what did I get? Hm? GIANT BLOODY _WHELKS!!!_"

"You're upset," the Doctor noted with his characteristic astuteness.

"You think?" Donna shot back. "Look at me! Look at my dress! I'm slathered in mud!"

The Doctor opened his mouth, but Donna cut him off with a glare. "An' don't you _dare_ make a crack about my gettin' a free mud bath, because I am _so_ not in the mood!"

The Doctor's mouth snapped shut and he sighed, suddenly looking very tired.

"All right," he said. "I'll admit this trip didn't turn out quite as planned–"

"_This_ trip?" Donna exclaimed, marching up the ramp to confront him at close range. The Doctor took a defensive step back. "Try _any_ trip. I can count on one finger the number of times we turned up exactly where and when we were supposed to be, an' even then we wound up nearly gettin' killed! Once–just once–I'd like to actually go someplace where the trip doesn't end with us runnin' for our lives! Or–better–even runnin' at all! Yeah, that's what I'd like: a nice, relaxing holiday with no running or screaming or muck or monsters or any of the rest of the horrors that seem to trail you like a shadow. Jus' sun and smiles and–oh, someplace happy! Someplace happy that _stays_ happy all the time we're there. An' I _don't_ mean some, like, intergalactic EuroDisney," she warned.

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Someplace happy..." He ran a hand through his ruffled hair, mussing it even more, then looked up at her with a bright smile. "I can do that."

Donna raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Prove it," she challenged.

The Time Lord straightened. "Five quid," he said.

"Ten," she glared back.

"Right!" The Doctor nodded once, smartly, then turned to pounce on the controls. "You just lost ten quid. Hold on tight!" He beamed at her through the time column's pulsing, greenish light, the promise of adventure a dangerous glint in his bright brown eyes. Donna moaned and grabbed onto the side of the console as the TARDIS lurched around her.

"Tell me," she said as the nausea-inducing jolts slowly smoothed out, "you've been drivin' this thing for…what? Five, six thousand years?"

"Oi!" The Doctor exclaimed, rather affronted by her gross overestimation of his age. "Your point?"

Donna smirked and pushed off the console, apparently oblivious to the muddy handprints she left behind. "Nothin'." She frowned down at the stiffening folds of her dress. "Uck, this muck's startin' to form a crust. I need a shower. Now. An' Doctor, I'll be expectin' that ten quid when I get back. In modern currency, mind–none of that Victorian stuff you tried to pawn off on me last time!"

The Doctor watched her leave, then smiled slightly to himself, using a handy cloth to wipe the console clean. His friend had just been pursued by monstrous gastropods and she was sporting a veritable coat of sticky mud, yet for all her complaining she hadn't asked to go home. Yep, it seemed Donna Noble was adjusting to this life just fine. With a feeling of satisfaction, the Doctor left the TARDIS to pilot herself the rest of the way, striding down the corridor on his mud-soaked trainers to grab a quick shower of his own.

_To Be Concluded… _

Please Review! 


	2. Planet of the Chipmunks

Thanks for the great reviews! Happy New Year, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion of my story!

* * *

Part Two: Planet of the Chipmunks

"We're here!" the Doctor announced proudly, dashing down the ramp to halt just before the doors. Assuming his best Rod Serling accent and stance, he said: "Submitted for your approval: beyond these doors, a new world awaits. A unique planet guaranteed to brighten even the sourest disposition. Case in point: one Donna Noble, a human woman well deserving a break."

Donna shot him an odd look. "Why are you talking like that?"

The Doctor's expression fell into a wounded pout. "It's Rod Serling."

Donna's expression was completely blank. "Rod Sterling? Who's Rod Sterling? Is that supposed to be some kind of alien reference, because you _know_ I'm new to all this space stuff."

"Alien–?" The Doctor did a startled double take, then his eyes widened in understanding. "Ah– Wait. Don't tell me. You've never seen _The Twilight Zone_."

"The…?"

"_The Twilight Zone_," he repeated. "It's a classic television series, from Earth, circa 1960s. Rod Serling narrated it, and also wrote many of the episodes."

Donna scrunched her forehead. "_The Twilight Zone…_," she mused. "An' you're sure it's from Earth?"

"From the US, yeah."

"Hm," Donna rubbed her chin. "Would it be that old black-and-white thing, then? The one with the irritating de-de-de-de theme song?"

The Doctor frowned. "Possibly. Although with that description, you could be referring to any number of old black-and-white programs."

Donna shrugged, clearly no longer caring. "Then no. I don't think I ever watched it."

"Never ever?"

"Science fiction? 'S really not my 'thing,'" she told him in an exaggerated stage whisper, as if imparting a piece of common knowledge to an outsider who was rather slow on the uptake. "I never watched _Star Tracks_ either. You know, the one with Darth Vader? Or that show about that genius bloke who hops about in time fixin' stuff… God, I can never remember the name of that one… _Doctor Quantum_? _Outer Leap_? It wasn't _Red Dwarf,_ I know that much at least. Had a boyfriend once–was obsessed with that show, he was. Never cared for it myself, though. Highly evolved talking cats? 'S jus' not realistic."

The Doctor winced and pinched his nose as if in pain. Donna frowned, starting to grow impatient.

"Doctor?" she said, crossing her arms when no immediate response was forthcoming. "Oi, Doctor!"

He looked up, and it was obvious now he'd been smothering a laugh. He coughed slightly before he could respond, much to his companion's irritation. "Yes, Donna?"

She gestured with her thumb. "So, uh, did you intend to open this door, or were you plannin' to wait?" she said with a sardonic jut of her chin. "'Cause I don't know about you, but I've got better things to do with my time than standin' in doorways making obscure television references to shows that aired back in the Dark Ages, an'–"

"Donna!" the Doctor interrupted, raising a hand then using it to gesture to the doors. He smiled. "Ladies first."

Donna gave a slight huff, and thrust the TARDIS doors open. Following her out into the bright, alien afternoon, the Doctor took in a deep breath of warm, sweet-scented air and his smile widened into a cocky grin. Oh yes, he'd landed right on the dot. This was going to be fun.

* * *

The town center was small and quaint, and absolutely deserted. Donna looked around at the narrow shops, the sparkling fountains, her eyes lingering on the trees that lined the walkways. They were thin and tall with smooth, bone-white trunks and sharply pointed silvery-pink leaves that complimented the pale green stone facing of the buildings.

"Definitely alien," she commented, shivering slightly when she saw that, instead of the blue she'd expected to see, the sky was a bright golden color despite the fact that she couldn't spot the sun, or any clouds. "Where is everyone?"

"Must be lunchtime," the Doctor said, glancing up at the clock tower that stood like a patient sentry watching over the empty streets. In place of hands and numbers, the clock's octagonal face featured clusters of tiny glowing dots that sparkled in particular patterns to tell the time. "It's the custom round here to take a few hours off work at about midday, go home, have some food, relax a bit, then head back to work about threeish. Listen…" he tilted his head and smiled. "Hear that?"

Donna shrugged. "Sounds like someone's got the radio playing." She cleared her throat, then frowned and cleared it again. "That's odd… Erm, is it just me, or does my voice sound different to you?"

The Doctor pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh," he said.

"Don't 'shush' me–" she started, then swallowed, her eyes widening slightly. "Now I'm certain of it!" she exclaimed. "Listen! Listen to my voice! It's gettin' higher. I sound like a ruddy cartoon! What's going on here? What's happening to me?!"

The Doctor sighed and tired not to laugh. "Donna, I'll explain if you just calm down–"

"Oh my God!" she backed away, pointing at the Time Lord with accusing apprehension. "You've got it too! What kind of planet did you bring me too! Oh no–don't tell me–the atmosphere's toxic! Our throats are constricting, that's what it is!" She rubbed anxiously at her neck. "Oh, God, I can feel it…the poison's eatin' away my lungs!"

"No, no, no, there's no poison, it's–" the Doctor tried, but Donna was too absorbed in her own panic to listen.

"Of all the ways I thought I'd die, I never imagined this. Suffocated on an alien world because my _brilliant_ alien guide was too _stupid_ to land his bleedin' _spaceship_ on a planet with a _breathable atmosphere_! Ten pounds is never worth this. Oh, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die soundin' like…" she sniffled, "like a _chipmunk_!"

The Doctor couldn't help it. Listening to her dramatics in that squeaky, high-pitched voice was just too hilarious. He doubled over, clutching his ribs to keep the giggles from splitting his sides. His laughter was like the chittering of a squirrel, which only made him laugh harder.

"An' now he's gone mad," Donna squeaked. The Doctor struggled to straighten up and catch his breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"No, no, it's not what you think," he piped in his newly cartoonish voice, fighting to keep his smirking mouth under control. "Well, you're right that it _is_ the atmosphere that's causing this effect, but it isn't toxic. At least, not in the short run."

Donna opened her mouth, but the Doctor interrupted her. "No, Donna, listen. It's helium! 'S just helium!"

"What?"

"The atmosphere here, it's laced with helium," he explained.

"What the hell is helium!" she squealed, too panicked to think clearly. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"'S one of the six noble gases found in Group 18 of your periodic table. After hydrogen, it's the second most abundant and the second lightest element in the universe, with an atomic weight of only–" Suddenly remembering who he was talking to, he stopped himself in mid-babble and tried again. "Oh, you know, it's that gas you use to fill party balloons and make them float," he said. "That's all it is, Donna. The concentration here is just enough to mildly affect your voice. It's not permanent, and it's not–hear me?–_not_ toxic."

"Not toxic?" she repeated, starting to calm down.

"No," he assured her. "So just relax! This is supposed to be a fun trip, remember?"

"Fun, right," she nodded, her brow furrowed as she came to terms with the situation. Satisfied that she was finally coming around, the Doctor glanced down the street, where he thought he'd spied some motion, only to gasp in alarm as his cheek was assaulted by a sudden, unexpected _SLAP!_

"_Yow!_" he peeped. "What the–"

"Why the hell didn't you just _tell_ me!" Donna roared, her flushed face and blazing eyes only making her high-pitched voice seem more comical. "You let me carry on like a lunatic–you let me _believe_ I was going to die–an' you just–"

"If you recall," the Doctor corrected rather sharply, "I never said the atmosphere here was toxic. That was all you. If you had listened to me from the beginning, there would have been no need to panic. Now, come on. I think the Helias are on their way back to the shops. The best time to find bargains is when they're still lazy from their meal."

"The Helias?" Donna frowned. "Yeah. And what are they like? Six-foot koalas? Fifty-stone chimps?"

The Doctor shot her a look. "Hardly," he said dryly. "I should tell you, though… Remember that radio you thought you heard earlier?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Well, it wasn't a radio," he told her. "That's how the Helias communicate. They don't talk the way that we do. Rather, they sing every word and phrase."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm serious!" the Doctor assured her. "Every person who speaks adds to the greater harmony of the conversation. Once it gets going, it's really quite beautiful."

"An' me?" Donna asked warily. "Will they expect me to sing?"

"The Helias here are quite familiar with tourists. They'll appreciate you trying, but you don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable." He smiled and looked up. "Ah, and here they are now! Let's go say hello!"

* * *

The Helias were slender, fragile-looking humanoids with long fingers and very round black eyes. They dressed in light, flowing fabrics that only barely concealed the fact that their bodies were covered in a very soft, fine, fair fur that grew slightly longer and bushier at the tops of their heads. Their mouths were surprisingly wide, and even wider when they smiled, their noses straight and long, and their ears, which were about the size of dinner plates, rested flat against the sides of their heads. Many of the Helias, men and women alike, adorned their ears with small jeweled studs and delicate gold and sliver chains that jingled pleasantly as they moved, adding a gentle bell-like tinkle to their complex song.

"They're beautiful," Donna gasped as they strolled down the high street, admiring the Helias' wares and sniffing the enticing aromas of alien street food. "So graceful. And their voices– 'S like listenin' to angels singing! Little chipmunk angels."

"They have the helium to thank for that," the Doctor told her. "Take a Helia off Helios an' his voice would be deeper than mine. Well, I mean mine the way it is normally, not as it is now, all squeaky and cartooney."

"I don't know, I think I rather prefer it this way," Donna smirked. "Makes it much easier to bear when you start spoutin' on about this or that."

"I could say the same about you," the Doctor retorted, only to earn one of Donna's patented glares. He laughed.

"So, Donna," he said. "Here we are. A nice peaceful day on a nice peaceful planet jus' browsin' the shops. Is it everything you wanted?"

"An' you promise there's no, like, repressed group of revolutionaries hidin' in the sewers ready to invade, no monstrous supercomputer network controllin' everyone's minds, nothin' dangerous or alien lurking behind the scenes jus' waiting to cause trouble and try to kill us?"

"Absolutely nothing of the sort. All is as you see it."

"Well then," Donna sniffed. "Yeah, I'd say you got it just about right. An' it's about time too," she added.

"Then you wouldn't mind paying for supper," the Doctor smiled, leading her across the street toward a small, though rather elegant-looking restaurant with an outdoor seating area. Donna frowned.

"Come again?"

The Doctor's smile broadened into a grin. "Oh yes," he said, taking a long whiff of the air. "I've got a hankering for a slice of rhumbo-manna meat pie, and I'd think that ten quid you owe me should just cover the bill."

**The End  
**  
HAPPY NEW YEAR!


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